Interrupted By Fireworks
by Soul Hunter
Summary: Obviously, this is about one of the four possible scenarios in the Gold Saucer date scene. Written from the point of view of Cloud's date. Who? If you wanna know, then read on :)


INTERRUPTED BY FIREWORKS 

by Soul Hunter

Something always gets in the way.

Whenever there are words in my throat just bursting to be said or things I wanted to do so badly, something happens and just gets in the way. There's no pattern or real intent to distract. It just comes

When I first saw him, I thought I'd just seen a ghost. He lay there on my flowerbed as if he owned it. Not a care in the world showed on his face. Just a peaceful kind of agony if it ever there was one. Not that falling off a half-mile high platform helped any. It was a miracle he survived. And sometimes, I can't avoid thinking if that miracle had a purpose. In my life, I mean.

He seemed to have a purpose in my life. Or at least that's what I wanted to believe. Like I said, when I saw him I thought I saw a ghost. He looked just like _him_. His face, his body, the way he walked and even talked. If not for that blonde spiky hair I'd really be convinced that it was _him._ Darn it, things like this always melts me inside.

Yeah, I'm talking about my first love. We used to see each other a lot before he went off to his grand dream. Back then, I thought he was the greatest thing that could happen to a girl. He was handsome, proud and so sure of himself. But he wasn't overbearing. Just confident. On the contrary, many people liked him for his attitude. I sure grew to like him because of that until like' became something more. 

Sadly, he had to leave, and I had to be left behind. I would've maintained contact with him, but he just seemed to have disappeared. That was the low part, and I was heartbroken because of that. It looked like someone up there didn't want us together.

Why is that? Why do people love those who couldn't be theirs? What's the point? If I'd been really pessimistic I'd say love is just a big waste of time. But no I wasn't built that way. Ever since I was a child, my heart had seen things that my eyes didn't. Things that say everything will turn out fine eventually, regardless of how insurmountable present situations may be. When he left, I believed with all my heart that he would return to me someday. I waited faithfully. I know the day of promise loomed just beyond the horizon. And if I waited, it would come eventually.

But he never came back, and this caused a lot of questions to be imprinted on my heart. I don't know if they will ever be answered, but for the life of me I also don't know why I nurtured the questions. Questions normally represent hope no matter how desperate they seem. They represent the expectation of things to come, things that will make people's lives better. As long as one keeps asking questions, that means an answer is forthcoming. There's no guarantee when it'll come. But it will. I just know. It'll be a sad, sad day when I finally decide to stop asking questions.

One gil in exchange for a flower. I didn't think much of it back then, even though the kindness behind that single gil somehow awakened the sleeping hope in me. He made me question my destiny once more. He, the one who was kind enough to buy a blossom even in the middle of a chase. But I didn't know it then, what he was in the middle of. All I knew was the hope he gave me.

When he came falling over my flower field, the questions began to unfurl once more. When he agreed to become my bodyguard, the answers started casting shadows. Shadows that serve their usual purpose of heralding things coming just around the corner.

Now we're here, back in this amusement center. So far we'd gone through one adventure after another that saw him steadily draw closer to my heart. The question is, am I also drawing near his heart as well? I wanted to know the answer to that one; I don't think I ever recall wanting an answer this badly. Even when the visit to Gongaga revived a score of lost ghosts from my past, the present specter proved more powerful than the past one. When I saw his parents, I realized there was to be a reckoning. When I told him what my ties to this little town is, I knew that this event didn't really serve as a hindrance more than it did a bolstering factor. I saw the former one's face in that town's façade. But my questions were already pointing somewhere else.

It was a little embarrassing to be the one to initiate things just to get him to come with me on a date. But we are in an amusement park so how else should I go about this? I knocked and then entered his room. And there he was, deep in thought. I felt a bit ashamed then, I shouldn't be taking his time like this, especially not for something as trivial as what I have in mind.

I still remember the look on his face when I slapped him after a bungled line in that play. I was trying to be angry and even kicked Evil Dragon King's butt. But maybe he knew better. The look he had on me shouted clearly. He knew I was just messing around with him. What he didn't know was I always do this when I start to like a person. For me, it's a peculiar way of showing affection. That was perhaps the first time we ever had physical contact while we're not pounding on some monsters' behinds. And it had to come as a slap on the face. But I had fun, and obviously he did too, no matter how incredulously he stared at me.

And now we're here, riding a gondola. Alone at last. And I can't muster the strength to say the words I want to say. Why did it become so hard all of the sudden? 

Most people just don't realize the kind of power words wield. There aren't so much the right words to say more than there is the right time to say those words. One verb whispered lovingly almost always edifies. One insult spoken with a smile can injure, damage and destroy. And yet the same insult serves as a challenge and an opportunity to better one's ways when declared out loud, with a poker face and a staunch posture that could virtually stop a train dead on its tracks.

But sometimes, some words serve their purpose well by being left unsaid. The only thing is people don't usually know when it's true.

Why are words so powerful either voiced out or not? When could one find it appropriate to tell someone that she cares? When is the right time to say I love you'?

Is it true that we have all the time in the world? Aren't we all just limited, finite beings whose lives can be snuffed out at any time? If this is so, then we really don't have much time, that the here and now is more valuable than any treasure known to man because that is the only thing that gives us a chance to show people that we care. It's our only window in time wherein it's possible to say I'm here for you'. We'll never know what will happen in the future. We could lose our opportunity in the blink of an eye. Life is fickle that way. It allows a window in which words become tagged as Words that you should say'. But that window is small, and opportunities pass over us everyday like the clouds in the sky. We often don't notice that they're gone unless we look up. Next thing we know, those Words that you should say' become Words that shouldn't be said' or Words that would have meant the world a day ago but mean nothing now because we took too much time before saying it'.

These things were running in my mind while riding with Cloud. I wanted to tell him that he had grown endeared to me, that I have learned to care for him through all these times we spent together. Maybe it started way before, when he first fell through my roof. But back then I was afraid of my feelings. What if I feel this way only because he looks exactly like Zack? Was I merely looking for the soul of a lost love in the face of the one before me? Was I only reminiscing on times passed? I didn't know then. But I know now. When I asked him a while ago to go on a date with me, I know exactly what to do

Then I had to ruin it all by telling him that he looked exactly like Zack. 

It was partly true, I'm a little amazed at the resemblance. But that wasn't my real sentiments. I really couldn't care less whether he was born with a coincidental likeness or he actually tore Zack's face off and glued it over his. I know what my heart was telling me. I wasn't looking at Zack. I was looking at Cloud. 

And those initial words ruined it for me Or did it? Cloud looked surprised at first. Then I could have sworn he looked a little hurt. Well, who wouldn't? But the moment told me something that there was more to his sentiment than what I had been seeing. I felt elated. The prospect that he had grown with someone like Tifa and yet was affected by my liking him to a past love was more that I've initially expected. 

I have to take it back. I have to tell him that it didn't matter if he looked like Zack.

And those words I first said proved to be the clincher. I told him about the resemblance. Now I'm telling him that in spite of that, I don't give a damn.

_Cloud, I want to meet YOU._

Those Mako eyes looked at me meaningfully. I guess he isn't as dense as most people take him to be. The moment was ripe, and I have to go all the way. There are things that I want to tell him so badly that this moment just couldn't wait. My heart is bursting.

_The memories of Zack had passed. Now_

_There's only you_

But then, it had to happen. Our eyes that were so close to each other were instead drawn outside when a galaxy of fireworks blazed in unspeakable glory. All of the sudden, the semi-lit night of blue and violet became alive with blindingly brilliant red, yellow, gold, vermilion, silver, and more. The elevated sky began celebrating in the resplendence of the fireworks, drawing the two of us helplessly towards the gondola's window. Our eyes and hearts soared with the radiance and the sounds, and we were too enraptured to let go.

But even in spite of all this beauty, in the back of my mind I was complaining. I was about to say it. The fireworks interrupted me. Something got in my way again. Something always gets in my way.

And before we knew it, the ride was over. And I failed to tell him, to let him know what's in my heart.

But the way he looked at me tonight, the way he smiled, gave me a renewed sense of hope. Maybe I was just being morbid about all that talk on life's fickleness and brevity. Maybe I was just being pessimistic. And I am never pessimistic.

I can always tell him later, when we're sure to be interrupted by nothing. For now, we rest, and prepare for our trip to the Temple of the Ancients. I can always tell him everything after all this is over. And I'm quite sure he will be telling me some things too.

There's always a next time.


End file.
